5 Times Clara Said She Didn't Need a Doctor
by G. G. Fernandez
Summary: 5 times Clara claimed not to need a doctor, sometimes valid, sometimes not. 5 fluffy, lighthearted moments where Clara was adamant that, for whatever reason, she didn't need a doctor or the Doctor to look after her. Takes place between Time Heist and the Mummy on the Orient Express
1. Souvenirs from a Night Out

At first he hadn't noticed.

He hadn't noticed the way she walked flat-footed down the steps, not daring to bend her feet. He hadn't noticed the way she had opted to walk bare-footed around the control room. He hadn't noticed the little intakes of breath she took when taking steps away from the console, the console she had been leaning on for most of the morning.

He hadn't noticed.

She always walked funny. She was Clara. Scruffy, old, make-up less Clara. On her stumpy little legs, she never walked normally. If she did, that's when he would have noticed.

But then he did.

He saw something he couldn't understand.

"What are you doing?"

She turned to face him briefly, the sound of his voice making her jump. She was sat on the black jump seat, her one foot pulled up and crossing over her knee.

He took a step closer, frowning. He couldn't work out what she was doing. Between her fingers was a strip of sticky, flesh-coloured fabric and for some reason, she was delicately applying it to the back of her heel.

"Is it a new type of make-up? Is that what it is?"

Clara's head snapped up, her frown evident.

"Make-up?" she queried, glancing back down at her foot and then to the Doctor.

He pointed towards the sticky fabric. "You're trying to make your foot look good?"

Clara let out a harsh breath. "What?"

The Doctor was unfazed. "You need some for your face."

Her mouth dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You need to put the make-up on your face."

He explained it so innocently it would have been funny if she hadn't have been in discomfort.

Ignoring the sting on her heel, Clara sighed. "I'm already wearing make-up."

The Doctor looked genuinely shocked, slowly moving his face closer to hers.

"Really?"

She nodded rapidly.

"Oh…" he shuddered, moving away.

He circled around the console, leaving her confused and somewhat offended, nothing new really. She'd learnt to deal with that part of him not long after his regeneration. It was who he was now. Part of her was sure he didn't understand just how disheartening he could sometimes be.

The sharp sting returned as the soft pad touched the tender area. _Damn the night before._

It had been one of her teaching colleague's birthday party. She hadn't intended to go but then Danny had asked her to be his plus one. She couldn't say no.

The party had been down the local pub and saying it was dull was a massive understatement. She actually jumped at the chance when Danny suggested they get the hell out of there. They'd ended up walking for almost an hour, not really doing much other than talking. It'd been bliss… until her feet began to rub against the backs of her new high-heeled shoes. And that had been it.

Danny had taken her to a bar in order to buy her a drink, aware she wanted to have a sit down. They'd barely found a free table before she began walking half out of her shoes to the bathroom. She needed to sort her feet out.

For the first time ever, she wasn't carrying plasters in her bag. She had to settle with wet tissue folded up and put into her shoe. It was slightly relieving once she got over the initial sting but it didn't help the moment she tried to walk again. The damage had been done.

At the end of the night, she give up with her shoes and ended up walking bare foot when Danny offered to walk her home. She didn't dare allow her feet to rub any further. The back of her right heel had already lost a layer of skin and was stinging like hell. Even the air was hurting it, the back of her shoe would have been deadly.

Danny had offered to call a taxi but she refused. It was only a thirty minute walk home and with company, she could deal with that. Her feet could too, glad that her shoes were hanging off her fingers as they walked.

Once home, Clara had immediately put plasters on the offending blisters. She had hoped they'd sooth the painful areas and ensure they didn't bleed throughout the night. That way, she could deal with them further in the morning.

"Are you awake yet?"

It was still dark when she heard his voice, one which made her shoot up from her bed rather suddenly. For a few scary moments, she hadn't realised who the figure sat on the edge of her bed was. However, when she dared to look around, she could clearly see the brightly lit writing through the darkness, writing which indicated the police box was nearby in the room.

"D-Doctor?" she rubbed her eyes, scoffing to herself upon feeling the unremoved mascara marking her hands and the area around her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm bored."

She sighed tiredly, dropping back against her pillow. He had a time machine. Why had he come so early?

"I'm tired." she told him, snuggling under her duvet and turning onto her side facing away from him, "Come back in the morning."

"I found a place trapped in an eternal winter."

Clara shifted against her pillow. "Narnia?" she wondered sleepily.

She could almost feel his eyes roll. "It's a kingdom!"

She rubbed her eyes again. "Arendelle?" she shifted, pausing for a moment, "You know what, I don't care. Come back in the morning."

He had. She guessed it was only a matter of seconds for him but at least it gave her a few more uninterrupted hours of needed sleep.

He took her to whatever it was called, the kingdom trapped in an eternal winter. It was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful but it was also cold. Extremely cold. Even her thick fur coat hadn't provided much protection to the climate.

She had sincerely enjoyed being there but no matter how much she wanted to stay longer and continue looking around, she couldn't. She didn't tell him but she was mightily relieved to return to the TARDIS. Her feet just couldn't handle it. They couldn't handle the freezing temperature or the boots supposedly protecting them.

And now she found herself sat in the control room, her feet reminding her who was boss after having just been offended about her face apparently lacking make-up.

The Doctor glanced around the centre console, his eyebrows seemingly dancing in sync with his growing frown.

"It's not working, you know?" he piped up, capturing her attention yet again.

"What's not working?"

He pointed. "Your new make-up."

Her eyes did roll. "It's not make-up!"

She dared to stand, moaning as she put pressure on her feet.

"They're plasters." she explained, "Band aids… whatever you call them."

The Doctor stopped, glancing down at her feet. "What for?"

Clara took a step, gritting her teeth and silently cursing as she did so. The one blister just wasn't being nice to her.

"My shoes rubbed me last night."

The Doctor scoffed. "Well that was stupid of them. What did they do that for?"

Clara shook her head, her hands clenching as she tried to ignore the sting.

"It's not like they chose to do it." she dared to laugh lightly.

The Doctor considered it. "So it's your fault?" he wondered, pointing to her.

Clara was confused but it wasn't obvious to him. "What was my fault?"

"That your shoes rubbed you…?"

Clara shook her head adamantly. "No."

"So it was your shoes fault." he pointed again.

"No!"

The Doctor hands flew out in front of him. "Then whose fault was it?!"

Clara rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to win this battle and if she was really honest, she didn't want to try.

"Mine…" she relented, knowing it was easier to give up now, "It was _my_ fault."

The Doctor shook his head. "Well then, Clara. That was silly of you. You could have hurt yourself."

Her eyes rolled involuntarily as she scoffed. She couldn't take much more of it.

While he got on with something she guessed was vitally important to him, she retreated into her TARDIS bedroom. She was in dire need of putting her feet up and get away from the Doctor. It may have been a bearable, non-life threatening pain that she was experiencing but she couldn't deal with it and an oblivious Doctor.

Replacing the plasters hadn't worked out in her favour, the pad having stuck to the one blister and pulling away the healing skin. She didn't scream but her painful moans were rather loud. _It hurt._

"You're making yourself bleed."

She was aware. Her moans continued as she used a clean tissue to dab the area gently, each dab making her squirm due to the sting. He just was stood in the doorway, watching.

"Let me help." he offered, walking from the doorway to her bed. He sat on the edge.

Clara shook her head, grateful for a moment he was actually being considerate.

"It's just a blister." she sighed, smiling gently when their eyes met, "I don't need a doctor."

For the first time all day, his confused frown wasn't present. For the first time all day, she knew he understood.

"I never said you did."

His smile was soft, highlighting his aged features. He may not have been the Doctor she met back in London banging on the door of Mr Maitland's house but he was her Doctor… in more ways than one, it seemed.

The sting was evident as he gently took the tissue from her and used it to gently wipe her blood away. The muscles in her foot and leg did clench as he did but she could bear it. She could do it for him.

While she watched the hand on her foot, she missed him reaching into his pocket. Within one slick movement, he applied something dangerously cold to the area. That time she did scream very briefly. _She hadn't expected that_.

"Damn it, Doctor…" her eyes were almost welded shut, "A little bit of warning would have been nice."

He glanced up sheepishly. "Sorry."

At first she hadn't noticed.

She hadn't noticed the way the coldness had soothed the sting. She hadn't noticed that the reason she had opted to walk bare-footed in the control room all day had vanished. She hadn't noticed the pain was miraculously gone.

She hadn't noticed.

He smiled softly. She was Clara. Funny, brilliant, clever old Clara. Her brain still hadn't realised. If she had, she didn't show it.

But then she did.


	2. Banging Heads

She could hear it ringing. She wasn't deaf… she just wanted it to stop.

Her head buried back deeper into her pillow and she used what little energy she had to grip her duvet and pull it over her face. She needed protection from the painful noise. However, the longer she lay there with the duvet over her face, the worse she felt. She was too hot.

She moaned, somehow managing to throw the duvet off. The pressure throbbing behind her eyes pulsed in time with her ringtone and she actually cried out. She neither had the energy nor desire to make herself move. Her mobile phone may have only been on her nightstand next to her but in her opinion, it was too far away.

The ringing ceased. She sighed, thankful. Then it started again.

Her hands fell upon her heated skin, rubbing her forehead soothingly. She wasn't feeling well and whoever was calling was, in her opinion, walking a very dangerous road. She needed the damn ringing to stop, sooner rather than later.

Rolling over hurt but she did it, reaching the offending item and answering. The silencing of the ringing was certainly a relief.

She didn't speak. She just put the phone to her ear.

"Clara?"

She winced. His voice was far too loud for her head to cope with.

"Danny…" she mumbled, her breathing becoming heavier.

"Are… Are you alright? What's wrong?"

She rubbed her eyes, immediately regretting it as the throbbing only seemed to intensify.

"Not feeling too good." She couldn't lie.

"I'll come over."

That was the last thing she wanted. She just wanted to be left alone, left to recover without the knowledge of having someone wait on her hand and foot.

"No." she probably sounded more abrupt than she meant to, "You don't need to do that… Can you just let work know?"

She heard him sigh. "Sure." he promised, "I'll pop by later."

"Danny…" she objected tiredly.

The phone call ended and although she was glad, she didn't have the energy to move the phone away. Her head was pounding far too much for her to even care.

She longer she lay there, the more she was aware that whatever had struck her wasn't a typical cold. Her head was pounding, skin burning, stomach churning and cramping all at the same time and she genuinely felt in pain. It wasn't something she would easily be able to ignore.

She shifted, the bedsheets sticking to her skin. She was in desperate need of a cold shower but even the idea of trying to get to the bathroom was enough to make her feel worse. She just couldn't do it.

She somehow must have dozed off because the next thing she was aware of was the sound of something hitting the floor from beyond her bedroom door, probably in the kitchen. As a result, her heartbeat did increase but even the shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins wasn't enough to allow her to move. If there was a burglar, everything she owned was theirs to take.

"I'll do it later…" she heard someone mumble.

She moaned loudly, her head rolling into her pillow. Now she'd heard who was inside her home, she no longer cared. She was safe but he soon wouldn't be, not if she had anything to do with it.

She daren't open her eyes too far, despite the fact her room was oddly dark. She guessed her blackout blind was to be thanked for that.

Noise from her kitchen soon became noise in her bathroom and although she wanted to, she hadn't got the energy to shout. It didn't matter though since only moments later, she was vaguely aware of the aged man coming into her room.

"You're awake?" he seemed pleased but he didn't smile.

Clara only mumbled, her eyes slowly closing once again. She didn't feel like talking.

The side of her bed dipped where she guessed he sat down.

"Clara?"

There was concern in his voice, unwarranted in her opinion. So what if she wasn't feeling fantastic? It happened. Humans got sick. She couldn't help that.

"Clara!"

His calloused hand touched her cheek, then her forehead. She was far too hot. He didn't like it.

She gasped when his hand was replaced by something rather cool, a damp flannel if she wasn't mistaken.

Her eyes slowly flickered open and she sighed. She couldn't lie, she was grateful for the flannel. It certainly was soothing her head a little.

"Doctor…" was all she was able to muster.

Still he didn't smile. His hand remained pressed against the towel on her forehead to keep it in place while his other hand once again felt her cheek.

"When did you get here?" her voice was quiet.

He didn't know the answer to that. He'd arrived with the intentions of taking her to Castavrol VIII in the 33rd Century. There was an excellent water fountain show there which he knew she'd enjoy and it would have been a great excuse for him to investigate all the local disappearances. However, his plans were put on hold when he saw her. She had just been lying lifelessly on her bed, no signs of waking. Very much not like the Clara Oswald he knew.

He'd arrived early. He'd meant to come in the evening after she'd finished her day at work but after seeing her, he was very glad he'd messed up the flight. Even just by him stepping into the room, he could tell she was a good two degrees warmer than she should have been. That was dangerously hot for a human.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"What did you break in the kitchen?"

He immediately frowned. She must have been feeling absolutely awful yet she was asking about something completely irrelevant. _Only Clara…_

"I'll fix it later." he promised, and he meant it.

Clara shifted off her side, stifling a moan from the cramp rippling through her stomach.

"What did you break, Doctor?"

Her lips did sport a soft smile while he shook his head.

"The door." he looked at her pale features as best he could, the only light coming from the open door into the room.

Clara immediately pushed herself up, her arms crying out for mercy as she did so. The Doctor's eyes went wide, Clara's sudden movements making both him and the flannel move away from her. However, he lightly held her shoulders, doing his best to keep her still. She was ill, she shouldn't have been moving.

"You broke the door?" she sounded slightly frantic, "The front door?"

The Doctor immediately began shaking his head from side-to-side.

"No. No. No. No. No." she calmed under his touch, leaning back against her headboard, "The little white door…"

Clara frowned. "What little white door?"

"You know, the one covering the gaps." he didn't know how to explain, "Where you keep your dishes."

Clara sighed. "The cupboard door?"

"Yes."

She relaxed, using both hands to rub her face. She could worry about that another day.

"What were you doing in the cupboard?"

He reached for a glass of water he'd left on her nightstand, handing it to her carefully.

"Looking for this." he held up the drying flannel. "I needed to cool you down."

He reached for her free hand, turning it over and placing two small red and black capsules in her palm.

"Take them." his order was soft, "They should help."

Clara sighed yet again, placing them onto her tongue one at a time and using a gulp of water to wash them down.

For a few moments, the pair sat in a shared silence, the only movement being the Doctor taking the water from her and putting it on the nightstand.

"Maybe I should get you to a doctor." he suddenly suggested, "They can deal with these little human illness things."

Clara shook her head gently, pleased the throbbing was beginning to ease. It wasn't by much but it was enough.

"I don't need a doctor…" she sighed, "I've already got one."

The Doctor's eyes widened slightly and he jerked back.

"Oh, right." he sighed and pushed himself up, "I better be going then."

Clara's eyes did roll a little as he began to head towards her bedroom door.

"Doctor…" he voice was a little coarse.

He turned on his heels, looking towards the still-pale woman.

"I meant _you._ "

The Doctor stood there for a moment longer than he ideally should have, silent.

"Oh… he realised, "Oh!" He swiftly shuddered at the idea.

She laughed softly as he returned, slowly sinking back down into her duvet.

He sat down again, watching over her as she settled back down on her pillow.

"What are you doing?" she asked quietly.

"Sitting here." he answered almost automatically.

Clara sighed. "You haven't got to stay, you know?"

He tilted his head slightly. "You're right, I don't." he agreed, "But I'm going to."

She found herself smiling at that.

"Won't you get bored?" she wondered.

He simply shook his head, his hand coming to rest on top of hers.

"No." he answered softly, "I can't be bored until you're better."

She slept for hours and hours and when she awoke, her room was dark not only due to her blind but also due to it being dark outside.

Her head felt clear again, her nausea and cramps gone. Now, she just felt hungry.

The Doctor hadn't stayed, not that she expected him to really. He had much more important things to do, she guessed.

The wooden floor was cold underneath her feet. She stood unsteadily but when she was stable, she moved over to grab her housecoat. She needed something to keep her warm.

She'd just reached her bedroom door when she heard movement, movement from outside. She frowned and pulled the door open, soon laughing silently to herself when she saw exactly what was going on.

It was the Doctor, on his knees, with his head stuck into her cupboard. There were screws and many different screwdrivers littered across the kitchen floor. Some of them she was sure weren't available in the 21st Century, some probably not even available on Earth.

"Doctor?" she kept quiet, hoping not to startle him.

The following bang was inevitable and she couldn't help but wince. His hand immediately came to his head as he moved out of the confined area.

"Great Rassilon, that hurt!" he cried, rubbing the area roughly.

Clara just stood there, watching. She had hoped that wouldn't have happened.

"You alright?"

She took a cautious step forward.

"No!" he snapped, soon calming when he finally managed to open his eyes and see her, "Yes… sorry."

Clara sighed, suddenly stopping at the perimeter of the sea of screws.

"Are you alright?" he stood swiftly, his eyes looking over her at once.

She nodded. "Those paracetamol seemed to do the trick."

The Doctor smirked. "Those weren't paracetamol."

She laughed softly as he turned back to the still-broken cupboard.

She'd guessed as much.


	3. Bloody Marking

It was getting late, too late for Miss Clara Oswald to have the will to carry on.

It was quickly coming up to Summer Term, more precisely exam period for her students. The first exam was less than two weeks away and she wasn't sure who was more nervous, her or her students.

Currently, she was in the process of marking her Year 11's English Language assignment. The lucky devils had had the exciting task of comparing the language used in typical text messages to standard language – _fun._

Clara rolled her eyes as she came to the end of only the seventh assignment out of twenty-eight. So far, that had been the worst.

She flicked the paper to the front, taking note of the name. Luke Allen. Suddenly, it made a little more sense. He wasn't a bad kid. He liked to act as the class clown but unlike many, he did have a respect for her as a teacher. She appreciated that. Unfortunately, he'd never really liked English Language but unluckily for him, he didn't have a choice but to take it. It was a core subject.

Clara glanced over her darkened classroom. The sun had set hours ago, leaving her solely depending on the classroom lights. Her aim was to mark fourteen – that would mean she'd meet the half way marker.

She yawned, glancing at the clock on the wall. 6:35pm. If she could be done by 8:00pm, she'd be happy enough.

Clara pulled the next essay towards her. Ava Lansbury. She had high hopes for this one.

She was probably half way through marking the exceptionally good essay when she was aware of the building pressure in her forehead. It hadn't been gradual; it had been sudden.

Clara winced, pulling her eyes shut. She had to drop the pen to free up her hand, using her fingers to pinch at the arch of her nose. She hated headaches with a passion.

As the pain began shooting down her nose, she was soon aware of a particular noise. She moaned yet again. She couldn't be dealing with him popping by for the moment, she was too busy.

The silence of the school allowed the noise to echo down the corridor outside her classroom. She only knew of one thing that made that noise. The TARDIS.

Clara leant her chin on her palm, slowly opening her eyes. She was more than relieved to feel the pain fading. She sighed to herself. She knew it would only be moments before he popped his head through the door.

It was then that she began to take notice of something new, a strange feeling she could work out right away. Barely a moment later, a soft patter of something seemed to be coming from beneath her.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Clara was soon aware of something else. Her nose was running wildly.

Without thinking, she brought her left hand to her nose while she reached for a tissue with her right. When she finally managed to replace her hand for it, she was more than caught off guard when she saw her hand plastered with blood.

Her eyes went wide. "Damn."

She let out a frustrated moan before securing her nose with the tissue and leaning her head back slightly. Of all the times for this to happen, it had to be now. She just didn't have time for this.

She was aware he was getting closer to the classroom. For an alien with over 1000 years' life experience, he wasn't a quiet walker. Sneaking up on people must have been impossible for him – no wonder they always seemed to find themselves in trouble when they went on one of their adventures.

Clara reached for a few more tissues, using them to wipe away the excess blood from her hand as best she could. It was never going to completely work – blood was never easy to remove. No matter what, her nails would be stained around the edges until she managed to give her hands a proper wash.

Bloody tissues began piling up on her desk, something Clara was futilely trying to wrestle with. Her patience was wearing deadly thin.

"Clara."

She could almost hear the smile on his lips – she knew it wouldn't last long.

He halted at the door, his eyes only registering two things: Clara and blood.

"Clara?!"

She could hear the concern in his thick Scottish voice the moment he rushed over to her side. He may have been the biggest idiot she'd ever had the fortune to meet but his hearts were in the right place. He cared. Perhaps that was why he had two – so he could care as much as he did.

Clara shook her head really softly, trying to keep the blood pouring from her nose contained within the current tissue. She really needed it to stop now.

"It's just a nosebleed, Doctor." she explained lightly, her voice muffled due to the situation.

The Doctor was out of his league. He couldn't understand why she wasn't worried – she was bleeding, a lot. He knew nosebleeds happened but this was something more. Typical nosebleeds didn't require so many tissues to keep the blood contained. Did they?

He sighed, his frown deep. For the first time ever, Clara wasn't commenting on his eyebrows. However, given the situation, he wasn't surprised.

"Do you want me to get you some help?"

Clara was touched by his concern. She did smile but that couldn't be seen.

"It's just a nosebleed." she repeated, "I don't need a doctor."

He sighed, grabbing a clean tissue which he knew she was in need of. He didn't speak; he just held it to her nose. which gave her a moment to once again rid herself of the excess blood on her hands. She was making a damned mess.

"Thanks…" she muttered, slightly embarrassed about the entire ordeal.

She was glad when she felt the bleeding start to slow. It was about time.

Clara brought her hand up to the Doctor's, gently brushing it to take the tissue from him. He quickly got the hint and let go.

She moaned and squeezed her nose into the tissue, pulling it away with a soft smile. It seemed to have finally stopped. Dropping the blood-drenched item onto the growing pile, she soon looked over her hands. They were clean enough to be dry but still stained.

She lifted her head, quickly meeting the Doctor's gaze. His frown was deeper than she'd seen in a long time.

"What?"

He glanced over her, unsure what to say straight away.

"How often does that happen?"

Clara sighed, slowly rising to her feet. "Not that often anymore."

"Anymore?" he stepped closer, his frown deepening just that little bit more.

"Doctor, its fine." she promised, walking around him to collect the bin sat by the door, "I used to get them quite a lot when I was little."

She carried the bin over to her desk before grabbing the tissues and throwing them in. She didn't care about getting her hands a little bloodier again, she was already in need of a proper hand wash.

She met his eye again. "It was just a nosebleed."

The Doctor sighed, his frown easing. She clearly wasn't getting too worried over it, perhaps he didn't need to then either.

She smiled at him before casually strolling to the door, placing the bin down on her way.

"Where are you going?"

"To wash up." her voice was soft.

She sighed as she left the room, both mortified about the situation and touched by his concern. Now all she had to do was mark Ava Lansbury's assignment and hope to God she never asked where the bloodstains came from.


	4. Breathtaking

Her words halted suddenly, mid-sentence. The sudden alarm had made sure of that.

Immediately, a groan travelled across the class before her. Clara shared it. It was raining. Why did the fire alarm have to be going off right at that moment?

She put her book down on her desk, doing her best not to roll her eyes. The meeting earlier that morning had informed the staff a fire drill would be occurring sometime that day. She just hadn't expected it to be right after the heavens opened over the school. They were going to get soaked stood in formation on the yard.

"Right, class." she sighed, signalling the chatty bunch to stand, "Leave your belongings where they are. Make your way out of the building. Quickly and quietly."

A chorus of less than enthusiastic grunts sounded as a band of chairs scrapped across the classroom floor.

"But Miss, it's raining."

Clara shared young Mariah Quimby's protest. She for one didn't fancy getting drenched for the sake of a fire drill but she had an obligation to get them all out of there. She had to act as though it were a real fire – after all, a real fire wouldn't wait for the rain to stop.

She stood at the door, looking over her rather unimpressed Year 8's.

"Come on." she ushered them out.

"Is a real fire, Miss?"

Clara's eyes did roll at Brad Bond's smirk. He wouldn't have cared if there was a hurricane outside. Anything to get him out of double English.

The class filtered out in the corridor, the lot of them heading towards the nearest exit. It was then Clara was able to see a few of the dordellers.

"Kyra. Leave your bag and let's go."

For a short pupil, Kyra Ellis wasn't one to back down from anyone – fellow pupil or teacher.

"I ain't leaving me phone in 'ere." She gripped the said device in her hand.

Clara made no attempt to argue with her. She'd never win that way. She knew Kyra Ellis, knew that if she could, she would find every reason under the sun to remain inside. The idea of the water ruining her freshly styled hair or trying-to-be-immaculate make-up must have made the poor girl shudder.

"You shouldn't even have it in school."

Kyra scoffed, only making Clara tilt her head slightly. A few years ago she'd have felt out of her league, not anymore. If she could deal with the Doctor and all the people she'd met when travelling over the years, she could deal with a pupil.

"You either put it away or give it to me and don't get it back to the end of the day."

Kyra scoffed again. "You can't do that!"

Clara held her hand out. "Me or bag." she reiterated, "Now hurry up and get outside."

The young girl huffed, attempting to call her teacher's bluff. However, Clara didn't back down. Something she'd picked up from the Doctor very quickly was his no-nonsense look. It was one she'd got down to a tee.

"Fine!"

The young girl dropped her phone into her bag before hurrying out the room. Clara just smiled to herself once she had. She liked the fact that after a couple of years, she was finally getting even a miniscule of respect from the pupils. About time.

She stepped out of the classroom, watching the sea of pupils' swarm to the open fire exit. The protests when they stepped outside were easily heard but they didn't point-blank refuse to go out – probably due to the fact that the Deputy Head was stood at the door ushering them all out. Nobody dared mess with Miss Brough.

In Clara's eyes, the only good thing she saw about the weather was the fact that it wasn't cold. Being mid-July, it was rather humid. Classic thunderstorm weather – that's how her Dad would have described it.

She remained in the arch of her classroom door, watching the pupils head out. They were always priority, pupils then the staff. In the event of a real fire, the staff's duty of care was to ensure each and every pupil was out before they were.

The swarm began to thin out, the pupils all finding themselves in the mercy of the British elements. It was only then that Clara could see the concern plastered on the approaching teacher's face.

Clara frowned. She couldn't understand why Mrs Wetherby looked so worried. The school had experienced many fire drills before and while the staff had always been trying to complete an evacuation in record time; she'd never seen any of them worry before.

"Jenny, what's wrong?"

Wetherby approached, a walkie-talkie gripped tightly in her hand. It was clear to see the tension in her upper body as she met Clara's eye.

The fear she saw was something which made her shoulders tense a little. Jenny Wetherby was not a woman easily worried, not about anything.

"The canteen's on fire." Jenny's voice was soft enough not to concern the last few pupils hastily making their way out of the building.

Clara's eyes went wide. "What?!"

She hadn't expected to hear that.

"Clara, can you just check the changing rooms then get out?"

She didn't bother answering as Jenny continued speedily on her way; she just did as she was asked. Suddenly, the weather outside wasn't even remotely a problem.

The corridor was relatively empty as she hastily walked down, the only movement coming from the male staff member checking the rooms on the other side of the hallway. It was clear that he too knew of the danger the school was facing.

Clara popped her head into the room. Empty. Ignoring the knot in her stomach, she then headed to the back room of the changing room. She was relieved to see it empty too. She sighed contently before heading out and shutting the door. Now all she had to do was get out.

The corridor was still, the male teacher having already gone. Clearly, this side of the school was empty. She was just about to head back towards the fire exit when she heard it.

Clara froze as her eyes went wide. Her head snapped around, hearing the noise increase as she looked down towards the dim corridor. Even with the sound of the rain against the windows and roof, she could hear it clearly enough.

"Damn it, Doctor…" she muttered.

Without even realising, her feet were moving – deeper into the school, closer towards the burning canteen. He couldn't be here, not now. He had no idea what he was about to step into.

The TARDIS was getting louder; it was obviously landing. She sighed harshly.

It was then that she heard something much worse, much worse than the TARDIS landing and signalling the Doctor's arrival.

 _Screaming._

Again, her head snapped around. Her neck would have objected but the adrenaline pulsing through her veins was fighting it off.

It was coming from the direction of the canteen.

Clara didn't think; she'd been in worse. She was the Impossible Girl, the woman who'd jumped into the Doctor's time stream and been ripped apart into hundreds of pieces. Something as simple as fire wasn't going to stop her.

She ran, literally into the fire. Well, not literally but close enough.

She'd only passed through one set of double doors before she was into the thick of the smoke.

Clara coughed, her slightly limited access to oxygen not stopping her. They were louder now, the screams. There were people trapped in there somewhere.

The smoke fogged up her view and within moments, she could see the fire. It was in the kitchen, the open hatch almost framing it. It definitely wasn't small.

Her eyes went wide, the heat becoming more noticeable as she tried to work out where the frantic cries were coming from. She knew she wasn't going mad – there were easily at least three distinct voices, perhaps more.

"Hello?!"

She coughed again, ignoring the fire through the hatch as she walked further into the canteen. She ducked a little, finding the air a little clearer the lower she got.

 _"_ _We're in here! We're in here!"_

The crackling of the fire was loud but she did her best to block it out. Harsh banging then caught her attention, directing her to the location of the voices. The girls' toilets, the ones dangerously close to the burning kitchen.

Clara's eyes went wide.

 _"_ _Help us! Please! We can't get out!"_

She coughed again, the mixture of having a lack of oxygen and the heat starting to get to her. She could see that the doorway of the toilets was blocked, part of the ceiling having collapsed against it. Clearly the damaging touch of the fire was destabilising the room. She really needed to get out of there, but how could she? There were pupils trapped; she couldn't leave them.

"Girls, is there a window?!" she cried though her coughing, getting closer to the toilet door but also keeping her distance from the kitchen, "Can you get out that way?!"

Clara could hear the girls coughing, three distinct coughs. Three pupils. Three people who needed help she wasn't sure how to provide.

 _"_ _I… I don't think so, Miss! There is one but it's too high and we can't break it!"_

Clara was beginning to struggle now, her coughing becoming more violent. She shed herself of her blazer, letting it fall to the floor. The heat wasn't helping matters either.

She was tempted to try and move some of the fallen debris but she didn't think it would do much good. From what she could see, the door itself was damaged. Even if she cleared the doorway, it didn't look as though the door was going to open.

She tried to speak again but her coughing hindered her from doing so. Frankly, she was at a loss.

"Clara!"

His voice was both a welcomed prayer and an unwanted acknowledgement. The scolding she was going to get off him once she was out of there was something she could already picture.

She managed to look up, coughing violently as he grasped her shoulders. His eyes were wide, his frown deep.

"What are you doing?! Come on!"

He tried to pull her out, something she fought. That only made his frown deepen. Was she mad? Had she finally lost it? Why didn't she want to leave somewhere that was putting her life in imminent danger?

"Doctor, they're trapped…" her voice was weak, her body beginning to struggle with the limited oxygen her cells were receiving.

"Who are?"

The words had barely left his mouth before he took note of the frantic cries from behind the door Clara, and now he, was stood near to. He tilted his head, immediately analysing the sounds. Three different humans, all females between 12 – 14 years. Merely children.

His eyes widened. From what he could tell without actually seeing them, they were in a worse condition than Clara. That was saying something. They'd clearly been exposed to the smoke longer.

"Doctor, help them…" she pleaded, her body dropping to the floor as her coughing took over. It was getting to a point where it was hurting to breathe now.

It annoyed her he didn't seemed to be affected in the slightest. Damned alien physiology. However, that wasn't something she could dwell on. All she needed was the girls safe, that and air.

The Doctor reached for her, lifting her to her unsteady feet. He was going to help them, no doubt about it, but he was going to help her too. He needed to get her out of there.

"Come on. We can get them with the TARDIS."

His arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her as he tried to walk her out. However, she felt too weak to go at an acceptable speed so she used her final burst of energy to pull away from him.

"Go. Get. Them. Out." she coughed, aware of his growing frown, "I can get myself out…"

She mirrored his frown. "Go!"

He did, he ran out of the canteen doors and disappeared. She envied his energy, she really could have done with some of that for herself.

 _"_ _Miss…"_

Clara could hear the girls were getting to the same point she was, weak and gasping for air. The entire situation was breath taking, literally.

"Don't worry…" she huffed, "My friend's coming to get you…"

She tried to move towards the exit, towards the less smoky part of the school. If she could just get out of the canteen, she'd be fine. She just needed a bit of oxygenated air, preferably sooner rather than later.

Her lungs were beginning to burn. It was unnatural – painful. She couldn't take it much longer.

Clara wasn't quite sure how many steps she taken before her legs gave way, her knees colliding harshly with the floor. However, it hadn't hurt. The rest of her body followed suit, her chest hitting the ground mere moments later. She hadn't got the energy to force herself back up.

Her head rested against the cold floor. That surprised her. Given the temperature of the room, she was surprised to find the floor as cool as it was. She wasn't complaining – the chill was taking the needed edge away from her burning skin.

Her breathing was growing shallower; she could feel it. Her coughing wasn't as violent either, her body wouldn't allow it. It wasn't long before a growing darkness began covering her eyes. In fact, the last thing she heard before it took over was the TARDIS materialising.

* * *

 _"_ _Clara… Clara…"_

The first thing she was aware of was something covering her face. However, to her surprise, it didn't feel suffocating – actually, it felt the opposite. The next thing she was aware of was the light attacking her heavy eyelids.

Clara moaned, her head spinning. She wasn't too sure what was going on, where she was. All she knew was that it was cooler.

"Clara…"

She recognised his voice. Even with how lightheaded she felt, she could make out his concern. Damn his need to worry over her.

It wasn't long before she was aware she was moving, somehow. She knew it wasn't by her own accord, she barely had enough strength to open her eyes. Still, she tried.

Clara winced as the light invaded the slits in her eyes. It was almost breath taking. She was aware she was outside, being carried on a stretcher towards something out of her view. However, the blue pulsing lights she could make out made it easy to guess.

She allowed herself to take as deep a breath as she could, her head rolling to look up towards the sky. She'd never been so thankful that the British weather had decided to ease up. At least she wasn't being pelted in the face by raindrops.

Oxygen was being fed to her nose through a mask covering her, it was that which made it difficult to speak. Still, she tried.

She soon took note of the Doctor walking alongside her, his concern easing only a little as she woke. He should never have left her in the canteen. If anything had happened to her, it would have been on him.

Fighting her arm out of the blanket wrapped around her, Clara lifted the mask from her face. Both the paramedics and the Doctor tried to object but she was having none of it.

She felt the stretcher come to a stop, now able to see the ambulance above her head.

"No… I don't need to go to hospital." her voice was scratchy.

The paramedics ignored her protest, allowing the Doctor to be the one to talk to her. He wasn't really surprised at her in all honestly.

He shook his head, a faint smile gracing his lips. He for one was more than glad to see the colour returning to her cheeks. She'd looked far too pale when he'd seen her be carried out of the canteen by emergency services after dropping the three girls outside the school curtesy of the TARDIS. He may have had two hearts but he was sure they both stopped in that moment.

"Clara, you were unconscious." he felt the need to point out.

She looked at him pointedly, feeling too weak to object but she still did nonetheless.

"I. Don't. Need. A. Doctor…"

He smiled at that, shaking his head as the paramedic on her left placed the mask back over her nose and mouth.

"I'm not sure you get a vote."

Any other time Clara would have scoffed – he'd just used her own words against her. However, she wasn't in any position to argue and she knew he knew it.

He watched as the people in green lifted her into the back of the ambulance, his fingers tapping nervously against his arm. He could have lost her today. He would never have been able to forgive himself for that.

One of the paramedics turned to him as the others secured her in.

"Are you coming with her, sir?"

His eyebrows cocked up for a moment. He pitted the young woman if she thought she'd have stood a chance trying to stop him. He'd already abandoned Clara once today; he wasn't about to do it again.

Wordlessly, he stepped inside and sat down. He couldn't help but watch over her as she lay with her eyes closed.

For the first time in years, he didn't have any objection to leaving the TARDIS in favour of some much cruder type of human transport. His only concern was Clara.

The doors shut them inside and he grabbed her hand, sighing when he felt her pulse beneath her skin. She was alive.

He saw her lips move underneath the mask, slowly mouthing his name before forming a soft smile. She looked weak, very much unlike the Clara he knew, but it was better than the alternative. In fact, in that moment, seeing her chest rise slowly up and down, it was nothing more than breathtaking.


	5. Regrets

Clara Oswald was 100 percent sure she'd made the right decision.

She'd sent him away, sent that idiot of a man away and told him never to come back. She'd meant it too.

Settled down on her sofa, the unsettling silence of her flat filling her ears, she daren't look at anything. She daren't look at the moon above, daren't look towards the shattered remains of the photo on the floor. She couldn't.

She was calm now. She needed to stay that way.

 _"I nearly got it wrong."_

Silence could be her greatest enemy. It was what allowed dangerous memories to resurface.

 _"You can damn well help us when we need it!"_

She didn't want to be angry but she was. She was angry at him. Only him. Completely him.

 _"I was helping."_

He just didn't get it. He never got it, but never before had he made her feel like she had then. She'd been scared, truly scared. Properly scared. Scared and abandoned, by him.

She shuddered in the darkness of the flat.

Two different faces, two different challenges she'd accepted upon his invitation. She'd trusted him, completely, but that had changed. Never before had he abandoned her like that. Never before had he put her in such a position. She couldn't go through that again.

That's why she'd made her decision. He was no longer a part of her life.

 _"Clear off! Go on. You can clear off!"_

The wine glass in her firm grip was bone dry, not that she'd noticed. An entire bottle gone and she neither cared or had any intention of stopping. She needed to forget about him. Forget and move on.

Her pulse was beating through her cold fingertips against the glass. It was something which actually caught her dazed attention. The simplest of things but even that wasn't keeping her distracted long.

Her anger soon vented through the form of silent but strong tears.

God, all she wanted was to forget him. She wanted that part of her life finished. She wanted him to be finished with him. For good. For definite. Forever.

 _"You can never finish with anyone while they can still make you angry."_

Damn the truth in those words. Damn him. Damn everything.

She stood slowly, still clutching the glass in her hand. She needed the next bottle, she needed a refill. She'd never been much of a drinker but it was different that night. That night, she needed a drink in order to clear her head – the irony.

The glass of the shattered photo frame shone in the moonlight, highlighting the places for her not to step as she walked towards the kitchen.

His face was smiling up at her, the older one. The aged one. The one she'd sent away.

 _"Get back in your lonely, your lonely bloody TARDIS and you don't come back!"_

Clara shuddered, having to place the glass down on the counter in fear of dropping it. He had no right to still be affecting her in the way he was. She didn't need him anymore.

She didn't need a doctor. She didn't need the Doctor. She just didn't need _him,_ not at all.

She hunched over against the counter, the picture making her want to scream.

The frame, while broken, still contained two photos. The one of him now and the one of him before. The Doctor he'd been before he changed, her first Doctor.

She wasn't sure who she was most angry at – the new him for doing it to her or the old him for allowing the new him to do it to her. Then again, she'd seen all his faces. She was angry with all of them.

Damn them all. Damn _him._

She turned against the counter and slid down, no longer having the energy to stand.

She didn't need him! Why couldn't she accept it?

A few long moments past in the darkened flat before she turned, her hand instinctively reaching for the photo frame.

What was she doing?!

She brought it to her lap and stared, long and hard. Her entire body shuddered. In both photos, she'd been happy. He may have been an idiot, she may have wanted to hate him, but he still made her happy. The things she'd seen were things people would kill for.

Her head fell back against the counter.

In that moment, she knew.

She'd thought she was right. She'd thought she'd made the right decision.

She was wrong.

She'd sent him away but now she knew.

Clara Oswald was 100 percent sure she'd made the wrong decision.

She thought she didn't the Doctor but she did. She _did_ need a doctor.

 _The Doctor._

* * *

 **Five stories, all over but we all know life with the Doctor is never truly over.**

 **Keep an eye out for _5 Times Clara Oswald Said She Did Need a Doctor_**

 **\- I can't give you an exact date because I know me; I won't stick to it. However, keep your eyes peeled.**

 **Thank you for taking the time to read. I do apologise for the long gap between updates and I thank you all for sticking by.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed.**

 **G x**


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